


his religion

by ruinsrebuilt



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Declarations Of Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9496631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinsrebuilt/pseuds/ruinsrebuilt
Summary: Leckie's journey from catholic boy, to a believer in ammunition, as facilitated by a certain blue-eyed boy from Indiana.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miserableboyfriends (hillbillied)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillbillied/gifts).



> For Ed, who freaks out with me over Hoosier and Leckie sharing cigarettes.

St. Mary’s was warm and dimly lit, and achingly quiet. Leckie had always felt there was something ethereal about an empty sanctuary. Something contemplative, outside of time and space. Maybe that’s why he found himself standing there, instead of out celebrating what would be the last day of his civilian life. 

Reverently, as he had been taught, he walked to the altar and lit one of the hundreds of candles cradled in red glass. 

The Virgin Mary gazed down at him from behind it. Leckie crossed himself.

_Hail Mary, full of grace, grant protection for myself and my comrades as we fight for God and country. Amen._

 

+

 

The first time Leckie doubted was the first time he laid eyes on a lanky, curly-haired boy from Indiana. 

The boy had been appropriately dubbed Hoosier by the rest of the squad not long after he arrived and for some reason, Leckie found himself captivated. Hoosier was a study in dry wit and sarcasm, and although he wasn’t formally educated like Leckie, there was intelligence hidden behind those tired eyes. Leckie had tried his best not to stare, but eagerly struck up a conversation as soon as he could think of an excuse. 

And for some unknown reason, Hoosier seemed to gravitate towards Leckie. They bonded over witty banter, and a shared disdain for the ordered chaos that is the marine corps. Before long, they were inseparable. Assigned to the same heavy weapons squad, it wasn’t hard. 

They often talked late into the night, whispering over the sound of snoring coming from the other bunks. Hoosier would talk about his home back in Indiana, and Leckie would ask him to describe every detail, closing his eyes and allowing Hoosier to paint a picture of patches of forest in between fields of tall green cornstalks. 

Hoosier’s voice was husky and deep when he whispered, and Leckie found himself paying more attention to the syllables as they rolled off his tongue than to the actual words themselves. He closed his eyes as a shiver ran down his spine. 

“And then there’s the creek out behind the house… My brothers and I used to wade in there looking for crawfish.. cook em up over a fire.. ma would get pissed because it ruined.. our appetite.. —” His voice slowed, sleep weighing it down, eventually becoming too much. Their bunks were close enough that Leckie could just make out the features of Hoosier’s face, and loose honey-brown curls. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly open. Leckie stared at his mouth before quickly averting his eyes. 

He spent that night tossing and turning, haunted. 

He tried to pray but the words stuck in his throat as he recalled Hoosier’s voice, and the smile that could be heard there. Leckie wanted to kiss that smile. This should have shocked him, but it didn’t. 

He prepared himself for the wave of shame he knew was coming. After all, he was a good catholic boy and god hated boys who thought of shameful things like how good it would feel to have another boys’ lips on his, or run his fingers through his hair, or hear his name called out desperately in a deep voice… 

But the shame and guilt never came. He tried to force a feeling of remorse, cry out to god for forgiveness but he couldn’t stop the voice in his head that asked the question that had been hounding his existence for longer than he cared to admit. 

Why? 

He had always been taught that marriage and sex was for a man and a woman. 

_‘Why?’_

_‘Because God willed it that way.’_

Leckie had never questioned this logic. 

But what if he was wrong?

 

+

 

The ship mess was chaos, as usual, and the food was shit. Leckie nursed a cup of coffee while they waited for Phillips to return with the oranges he’d claimed he could con the cook out of. None of them were hopeful. 

He kept stealing glances at Hoosier, who sat across from him, working on his third cigarette. He was about halfway through and Leckie eyed it hungrily. He had left his own pack in his rack, and was seriously regretting this decision. Hoosier saw him and grinned, handing him the half-gone cigarette. Leckie tried not to think about the fact that Hoosier’s lips had been there mere seconds before his as he took a long drag. 

There was a familiar shout behind Leckie, and out of the sea of marines came Phillips with an armful or oranges. He grinned proudly as he dumped his loot onto the table, oranges and hands flying in all directions. Leckie picked one up and tossed it to Hoosier, pocketing his own for later. Something to look forward to in hell. 

The conversation turned to the war, as it often did; none of them able to keep from mentioning what was on all of their minds. The guys were tossing around theories as to why they were there, and stumbling over the pronunciation of the island. 

“Guys, guys,” Runner held up his hands to quiet them and turned to Leckie, “Professor Leckie, enlighten us…” 

Leckie raised his eyebrows and took another drag from Hoosier’s cigarette. “You wanna know why we’re here?” He paused for a long moment, letting the question hang in the air. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hoosier grin at his dramatics. 

He waited an extra moment for good measure. 

“Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country’s cause.” 

There was silence, and solemn nodding, and no one knew quite what to say. Until Hoosier, ever the balance to Leckie’s brooding nature, broke the silence. “Give me back my smoke.” 

The group erupted, relieved and laughing again. 

Leckie hardly noticed. He was too distracted by the sly wink Hoosier gave him, when no one was looking.

 

+

 

His joke about wanting Hoosier was a lie. Well, it was a lie in that he wasn’t joking. He did want Hoosier. 

The idea was becoming more and more comfortable to Leckie, now that he had allowed himself to admit it to himself. And left god out of it. 

Not that it made things any easier, having to be around a man you want to be with, without any hope of ever being with him. 

Leckie was a realist. He wasn’t stupid, or deluded enough to think that this would be anything more than longing from a distance. It was too dangerous, considering the general opinion on such relationships, and besides, Hoosier couldn’t be interested in him. Leckie could never be so lucky, despite his nickname. 

Except he was. 

 

\+ 

 

Leckie had just gotten off watch when Hoosier found him in his foxhole. In the dark, he didn’t recognize him and jumped, grabbing for his rifle only to be smacked upside the helmet. 

“It’s me you idiot.” 

“Oh, hey.” Leckie relaxed and leaned back against the damp dirt. Hoosier slid in beside him and pressed close and Leckie’s heart sped up. He was sure every jap on the whole godforsaken island could hear it. 

“Hey,” Hoosier breathed out. He laid his head back and was quiet for a moment. Leckie tried not to be hyperaware of every move he made but it was impossible. 

He was silent long enough that Leckie was sure he wasn’t going to say anything at all, but then he heard a soft, “Can I ask you something?”

Leckie was still. He wasn’t sure where this was headed, but terror ran through him, hot and paralyzing. Hoosier was going to call him out on his feelings, he knew it, and he was not ready for that. He was not ready for what that would mean. The end of their friendship. Hell, the end for Leckie in general if word got out that he was attracted to another man. He wouldn’t last one night. Not when death and killing were daily fixtures anyway.

There was no use in delaying the inevitable, though. Leckie gave a short nod and held his breath, waiting for biting words and bitter rejection. 

“Is it a sin to love me?” 

Leckie blinked. 

And blinked again. 

Slowly he moved so that he was facing Hoosier’s profile and opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

Hoosier was looking straight ahead, or more to the point, not at Leckie, but he continued. “Because all I can think about is you and kissing you, and I thought you felt the same, but I’ve seen you readin’ that bible and I’ve heard you late at night, praying when everyone else is asleep and…” He let the sentence hang in the air like a question. 

Hoosier knew what Leckie believed. Or, rather, what he used to believe. 

Hoosier thought Leckie was going to judge him, just like he had expected Hoosier would do to him. Leckie almost laughed at how stupid they were, but he was breathless and couldn’t if he tried. 

“Hoosier look at me.” 

Hoosier kept his eyes fixed resolutely on the opposite dirt wall. 

“Bill.” Leckie whispered his named like a prayer. Broken, desperate. 

Finally Hoosier dragged his eyes to Leckie’s. His hands were shaking.

“I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to figure out why God would think what I feel for you is a sin. Thing is, I still can’t figure it out. Not when it’s you. Not when nothing you could ever do would be a sin. God sits on his mighty throne, telling people who they can and can’t love, meanwhile knowing that good people will fall in love and never be allowed to be together, for what? So the old geezer can have a few laughs? That makes us chumps, or God’s a sadist and either way, I got no use for him.” 

Hoosier’s eyes were wide, and pooled in them were tears that might as well have been liquid moonlight. He scarcely dared breathe. 

Leckie’s own eyes were wet as he echoed his earlier words, stripped of their humorous disguise and laid bare for the truth they were. “I want you, Hoosier.” 

Hoosier made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, closing the distance between them. 

He tasted of smoke and dirt, and of all things, oranges. And he felt like the softest thing Leckie had ever touched. The sheer relief he felt at finally running his fingers through those soft curls drew a moan from his touch starved lips. 

Leckie found the answers to all his questions in that moment. Where before nothing made sense, now it was clear. Kissing Hoosier was a prayer, and loving him was his religion. No amount of judgment could make this moment less sweet, or take away the feeling of home that came with being with Hoosier. 

 

+

 

Later that night, when Hoosier was asleep against him, his fingers tangled in his shirt, Leckie said one final prayer to the geezer on his throne. 

_Fuck you._

~


End file.
